


werewolf gimmick

by bentsage



Series: a head full of memories (no cult au) [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Drunk Driving, Family Drama, Gen, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bentsage/pseuds/bentsage
Summary: (set after chapter 5 of "in memory of")John knows that if he wants another drink, he only has to look in the trunk of his car, under the mat where the emergency kit should be hidden.  There, he triumphantly digs out an unopened bottle of whiskey, still wearing the now-faded price sticker from the rundown liquor store he'd bought it at.  He doesn't remember why he stowed it away, but at least it's finally going to serve some useful purpose in this world.  It's more than can be said about John.-After destroying a date between Jacob and Eli, John Seed speeds away from the scene of the crime, only to wind up fighting Nick Rye on the shoulder of the road.  Too bad John is too drunk to have the upper hand that he so desperately craves!
Relationships: Kim Rye/Nick Rye, Nick Rye & John Seed
Series: a head full of memories (no cult au) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567621
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. after 10 on a weekday

**Author's Note:**

> 1) i'm not good at summaries sorry  
> 2) i'm sure i will see things in this that i want to fix almost immediately, but i've had this sitting in my files since chapter 5 of imo and i NEED it to be done. so here it is!
> 
> if you haven't read my other fic [in memory of](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444828/chapters/35850003), here's all you need to know: jacob and eli refuse to admit their feelings for each other, but eventually they do go on an unlabeled date to the spread eagle. john shows up to the date, which he knows is supposed to be a date, and hassles eli and jacob for about an hour before dragging up eli's very private, very unhappy personal drama. that pretty much ruins everything, but john refuses to accept responsibility because, you know, he's john seed.
> 
> you should probably just go read the chapter if you want, who gives a fuck about the rest of the fic if all you care about is this stupid, dumb, stupid idiot! it's what i would do in your shoes

John sticks around for another drink after Eli storms out of the Spread Eagle, if only to get more of a rise out of Mary May. She keeps looking at him like she expects him to leave, like she wants to  _ tell him _ to leave, and that has him lingering for a second round, even a third, before she finally snaps, "Don't you have somewhere  _ else _ to be? Somebody  _ else's _ night to ruin?"

Truthfully he doesn't, but admitting that would be worse than making a clean getaway from the only bar in the valley. John pays for his drinks with as much grace as he can under Mary May's death glare, waiting until she's finished processing his card on her outdated register to gracefully pay Eli and Jacob's abandoned tab for the night. Mary May's frustration isn't enough to start a fight, but he can bet she'll be slow to serve him in the future, even with the fashionably  _ fuck you- _ sized tip he leaves behind.

He doesn't need her or her fucking bar. John knows that if he wants another drink, he only has to look in the trunk of his car, under the mat where the emergency kit should be hidden. There, he triumphantly digs out an unopened bottle of whiskey, still wearing the now-faded price sticker from the rundown liquor store he'd bought it at. He doesn't remember why he stowed it away, but at least it's finally going to serve some useful purpose in this world. It's more than can be said about John.

Letting the ugly thought settle in the back of his brain for later, John peels out of the parking lot without so much as scraping the old jalopies and over-compensating trucks that occupy the rest of the dirt lot. Even drunk, he's managing just fine — to the surprise of everybody except himself, as usual.

There's no good music in this goddamn town, so John has to listen to static-edged classic rock like every other hillbilly on the road tonight. All the songs sound the same out here, with barely intelligible lyrics about trucks, alcohol and women; it's either that or righteous gospel music that even Joseph has trouble standing. Even if he had the concentration to plug his phone in, all of his music is meant to fill the silence with other people. If this were a normal night, John would simply stew silently in his own thoughts, or let the wind and roar of the engine distract him.

His phone is ringing. He manages to stay mostly in his lane as he digs it out of his pocket, although he swerves dramatically as he tries to focus on the name. Of  _ course _ it's Jacob. Of course he wouldn't wait until they next saw each other to argue about how poorly John handled tonight. He's always demanding instant satisfaction, always rushing to confront things. Always trying to make up for abandoning Joseph in his hour of need, even after John's picked up his slack and given him free license to abandon them all over again.

John should leave him to rot. He should throw his phone out the window and save Jacob's angry tirade for another day. He shouldn't answer. Then again, he shouldn't be drinking and driving, either.

He  _ definitely _ shouldn't be driving, drinking,  _ and  _ talking on his phone, but he's an excellent lawyer, he can get himself out of this mess.

"I'm driving," he tells Jacob as he answers, just so he'll know whose fault it is if John crashes. "It's all your fault," he repeats aloud, to make sure Jacob knows.

"All  _ my _ fault," Jacob snarls, coming in hot, a meteor scorching the Earth, "You stalk me and destroy my date like a pathological  _ fucking maniac _ and you have the audacity to say —"

" _ Not _ a date," John laughs, "I  _ told you _ he's got a wife." He presses down hard on the gas, watches the speedometer rise, ticking up to 80, over, "You sorry motherfucker. I  _ told you  _ this would happen."

"You don't know what the  _ fuck _ you're talking about," Jacob shouts, loud enough that John can comfortably rest the phone against the steering wheel without missing a word, "You're the sorry motherfucker here, you arrogant shit!" The bottle sloshes while John takes a swig; Jacob must hear it because all at once he's demanding, " _ Pull over, _ " as though his orders mean shit when he's not there to intimidate John into complying. "Pull the fuck over before you get arrested, or  _ worse _ ."

"Worse? Fuck you,  _ worse _ ," John shouts, "As if you give a shit. You already abandoned us  _ twice _ —"

"John, goddamn it —"

John hangs up. If Jacob wanted to talk to him so fucking bad, he should have done it when they were face-to-face, because John has no goddamn reason to listen to him  _ now _ . The speedometer ticks, ticks, ticks up to ninety, and John has gone much faster than this. He's been much more reckless than this. Jacob wouldn't know, but he's survived plenty worse than a dark country road.

High-beams flash directly in John's eyes as he takes a hard left, twin stars turning to headlights in front of him. He turns the wheel just a little and the whole car swerves, leaving John to fishtail into the dirt shoulder, brakes squealing and kicking up dust. He hears his own voice in his head screaming,  _ fuck you, worse! _ , as though he can't help mocking himself even as he manages to come to a full stop, miraculously unharmed.

Every muscle tense, hands shaking, John grabs the mostly-full bottle and shoves it back under the seat, immediately searching the front for any other incriminating evidence before the cops roll up on him for nearly crashing in the middle of fucking nowhere.

"What the  _ hell _ is your  _ problem _ ?" someone shouts from outside, bellowing over the rumble of the engine. John doesn't recognize the voice immediately, although it's definitely familiar. "The posted speed limit is fifty-fucking-miles! This isn't the goddamn Autobahn!"

Oh, yeah,  _ right _ .  _ Now _ John knows — all that self-righteousness bubbling up in Nick Rye's voice is impossible to mistake. He wonders if it's worth it to get out of his car, to confront the new dad with all of his familial protector energy, see if  _ he _ at least knows when and how to throw a punch at someone mocking his family. Eli fucking Palmer. God damn it.

"Now is  _ not the time _ ," John says when Nick barrels over to his window, still complaining about the speed limit. "I never have the patience for you, Rye, and that is  _ even more _ true right now."

"Too fucking bad! You could have fucking killed me, man, you know I got a kid now and —"

John opens the car door into Nick's gut, spurred on by the satisfying grunt of pain as Nick staggers backwards. "Okay, I've cleared my schedule," he snaps, climbing out of his seat. He doesn't feel entirely steady on two feet, but at least Nick looks like he might be rethinking his plans to harass John on the worst night of his life. Or, at least, the most  _ recent _ worst night. "I don't care about your  _ fucking kid _ ," he snarls, going on the attack before Nick fully recovers from being body-checked.

He shoves Nick again, grinning as he fails to find his footing and almost topples over. Nick's always acting like he's got some mysterious upper hand dealing with John. Too bad for him, because tonight John isn't interested in pretending to take the high road with the piece of shit nobody who thinks of Atlanta as an exotic vacation destination.

"Fuck you, you goddamn hillbilly," John shouts, "You are so far beneath me that I have never once stopped to consider you, and if you'd died tonight, the only thing I'd wonder is whether or not that made Kim available!"

John had been looking for a fight at the Spread Eagle, but he finds it here on the side of the road as Nick Rye punches him hard enough to send him straight to the ground. He barely even sees it coming — just Nick's furious expression, teeth bared, his fist up, and then he's looming over John like he might start kicking him for good measure. It's a fucking disgrace, is what it is. If the partners back in Atlanta could see him now, he'd probably get fired all over again. "You're lucky you smell like a bar bathroom, you sorry sack of shit, otherwise I'd beat the arrogant snot out of you!"

"Yeah?" John laughs, a smile pulling at what's going to be a big, fat lip in the morning. Nick backs off and John scrambles, searching for that sweet-spot he knows will trigger a full on brawl with the idiot redneck lording over him. "You don't have the balls to handle me now, huh? Too fucking high and mighty to take the low road, Rye?"

Nick scowls, anger boiling up in his expression until it forms a mean smirk. John starts to climb to his feet; in the time it takes him to stand, Nick goes to his car and yanks the keys out of the ignition.

"Now, what the fuck are you going to do with that?" John laughs. Wouldn't that be something — the holier-than-thou shitbag Nick Rye, stealing a two-hundred-thousand dollar car just for the fuck of it. John might just let him keep it out of sheer respect.

It's short-lived laughter, as Nick takes one look at John and then chucks the keys as far as he can into the empty field beside them. John watches them glint briefly in the moonlight before disappearing, not noticing Nick retreating back to his truck until it's too late. " _ What the fuck,"  _ John roars, staggering after him, but Nick is sober and much faster, locking his doors before John can get a grip on the handle. "Get the  _ fuck out here! _ "

Nick reaches over and cranks the passenger window down just enough so that John can hear him clearly when he says with a grin, "You oughta dry out before you get back behind the wheel, Seed — I just did you a favor!"

"You _ piece of shit _ ," John shrieks, drowned out briefly as Nick's truck's engine roars to life, and then drowned out more permanently as Nick peels out, forcing him to leap back to save his toes from being run over. " _ You goddamn son of a bitch _ !"

He shouts at Nick until his tail-lights disappear in the dark, leaving John stranded in the middle of goddamn nowhere on one of his worst nights in Hope county so far. With nobody else around to see, John lets out a frustrated wail and launches himself back into the driver's seat, digging the bottle out from the passenger seat. It's bitter and burns all the way down but John swallows enough to drown a lesser man, then takes another hearty swig.

He could hot-wire the car. He could be on the road in thirty seconds, and could overtake Rye's truck in minutes. From there, his thoughts get  _ dark _ , darker than they've gotten since he packed up and hightailed it out of Atlanta like a fucking coward. The only thing that keeps him from seriously contemplating beating Nick into the ICU and burning down his house is that fucking baby Nick won't shut up about. Joseph would never let him hear the end of it, orphaning a kid like that — not that John cares what Joseph would say. Like he'd even tell Joseph what happened tonight — John's not an  _ idiot _ . No matter how badly he might want to burn some bridges, Joseph is off limits.

So is hot-wiring the car, John realizes as he prods around under the steering column. He hasn't had to jack a car since he was a kid, and he's not willing to wreck his favorite vehicle just to spite Nick Rye. Unfortunately, that means he's stranded until he finds his keys, which isn't going to happen when he's three sheets to the wind. He doesn't know any towing companies in the county, and he can't guarantee that they'd bother to make the trip for him. He can't face Joseph like this, and he's sure as shit not going to call Jacob, who's even further away and definitely hates him after tonight.

Well, shit. Even moving to the sticks with his family has left him completely alone. What the fuck was even the point of coming to this miserable, empty state in the first place?

John grabs the bottle. He can finish it on the long walk home, and still have time to sober up before he has to face Joseph. The car, retribution on Nick, Jacob — they can all wait until tomorrow, when John is sober and able to fight back.


	2. after 11 on a weekday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim just wants her baby to sleep long enough for her and her husband to bone down, but of course John Seed has to make even that small request into a massive problem.

Kim should have known something was up when Nick came home wearing a smug grin. She should have known from the way he'd kissed her, relieving her from her baby watch like he'd watched too much  _ Star Wars _ and was imitating Han Solo again. But Kim is a simple girl, and her husband's roguish good looks and the little dip he'd done on her pretty much wiped any suspicion from her mind. After all, Nick gets full of himself over all sorts of stuff, like the time he'd patted himself on the back for 45 minutes after avoiding a minor fender-bender on the highway, or when he gets to hang out and shoot guns with the deputies, or when Carmina said  _ dada _ before  _ mama _ . If he wants to act like a boss after finding a coupon at the store, then Kim will  _ gladly _ let him, so long as she gets to reap the rewards.

She's  _ definitely _ going to reap, too, damn it. Nick is going to get Carmina to go to sleep with his magic touch, and they're going to make sure she sleeps through the night so that she can get some time alone with Nick. It's been a week of sleepless nights as Carmina has struggled to sleep through the night, and she can only hope it's going to end tonight.

It takes everything in Kim's power to go downstairs and tackle the dishes in the sink, when their bed looks so cozy and inviting. That wouldn't be fair to Nick — or herself, considering how long it's been since the two of them have had some alone time that wasn't interrupted by Carmina or some outside catastrophe.

She's halfway through drying off the pans from dinner when she hears something that doesn't sound right. It's not her daughter fussing, or her husband trying to avoid asking for her help after throwing out his back or locking himself out of the nursery on accident. It's might be an animal, maybe, or a car blasting music?

Turning off the tap, Kim leans forward on the sink and tries to concentrate. It... sounds a lot like somebody yelling, actually.

Kim immediately goes to the window, pulling back the curtains just enough to squint out into the driveway. It only takes a moment before she spots the source of the commotion: John Seed is staggering down the drive, carrying a bottle of some kind in one hand while he gestures wildly with the other. Kim doesn't know what he's shouting, but it doesn't matter; all that matters is that he  _ stops _ as soon as possible.

Kim makes a snap decision and heads for the front door. She pries the door open and watches as John staggers to a stop, not paying any mind to the light spilling out over the porch as he stares up at the second floor. He looks  _ terrible _ — his designer clothes are disheveled and covered in dirt, his hair a stringy, product-filled mess, his weight shifting back and forth as he tries to stay upright. He looks angry but too drunk to be effective about it — still, Kim's heard stories about the guy and his short temper. The last thing she needs is to piss him off face-to-face.

John takes a large, unhappy swig and then shouts in a thickening drawl, " _ Nick Rye, this is your reckoning! _ "

"Jesus Christ," Kim sighs.

" _ The fuck you think you are _ —"

"John —"

"- _ takin' my keys _ —"

"John!" Kim shouts, "The baby is asleep!"

For a moment, John just looks surprised to find he's not alone, his whole head bobbing as his gaze focuses on her instead of his imaginary blood feud with Nick.

"Oh," he says, surprise taking the shout out of his voice. He puts a hand briefly to his mouth, shushing himself, then slurs with extra precision, "My  _ apologies _ , ma'am. You wanna just, uh..."

He gestures to the house.

"Go get him? So I can... reckon him."

Kim takes a breath. "John, go home. You're making a fool of yourself."

That  _ clearly _ isn't the right thing to say, because John's shallow contriteness turns almost immediately into anger. Kim knows the look, knows John's the kind of man to put holes in walls when he's drunk. It's not exactly intimidating, but a smarter woman would probably go back inside at this point, instead of holding her ground and arguing.

"Makin' a  _ fool _ — your  _ husband _ is the fool, the fuckin' — the  _ fucking audacity _ to fuck with my car, made me  _ walk home _ and I — I don't wanna talk to  _ you _ about this! Get your fucking husband out here, or so help me God, I am gonna go in there and  _ drag his sorry ass out _ —"

John starts coming towards the porch and Kim glances towards the door, sure that she could easily escape if she bolted now. The debate lasts all of a moment in her head before she decides that John's staggering doesn't exactly make her fear for her safety. Instead, she holds out a hand, palm up, stopping him before he makes it up the first step.

"You are  _ not _ welcome in my house," she tells him. He has the nerve to look stunned by this revelation, as though nobody's ever told him he wasn't welcome somewhere before. Well, Kim's fine being the first. "Who do you think you are, showing up here drunk and trying to start a fight with my husband?"

It's sort of suspicious that Nick hasn't intervened yet, actually. Kim looks back into the house, keeping an ear out, but she only hears a few purposefully muffled, trying-not-to-be-heard footsteps from the baby's room. Squinting with even more suspicion, Kim turns back to John, who's in the middle of trying to clean out his bottle.

"What exactly did he do?" she asks, trying to get a look at the label to see just what kind of rat poison John's pouring down his gullet.

"He threw my  _ goddamn keys _ into _ cow shit _ , is what he did!" His voice warbles almost sorrowfully, hinting that Nick might have only been the last straw to break the camel's back, but Kim isn't in the mood to take pity on him. "Left me fucking  _ stranded _ ," he lifts his voice to accuse Nick directly, " _ Stranded _ in the middle of fucking  _ nowhere _ —"

Trying to firm up his posture only causes John to list uncontrollably as he fails to find his center of balance. He nearly goes head-first into the wood deck, but Kim comes to his rescue at the last moment, propping him upright with one hand firm against his collarbone. He stares at her hand, then her, mystified at her apparent strength. He's just lucky she'd rather catch him than deal with the ensuing bloody nose.

"You didn't drive here, did you?" she asks.

"No, ma'am," he replies. With all the alcohol he's had, it's hard for him to hide his Southern drawl, and he can't help but to kowtow to her forceful sobriety. At least he got raised right  _ somewhere _ along the way, she guesses. He does lift his eyes to the upstairs window, which is where he's decided Nick is hiding, and adds in a rueful hiss, "No thanks to  _ him _ ."

Kim weighs a quick list of pros against another list of cons, and decides that appeasing a too-drunk-to-stand John is probably a better bet than challenging him to make their life miserable when he's sober. He's supposed to be some hot-shot lawyer — Kim's sure he could destroy the entire valley if he wanted to, let alone their small, family-owned business. God willing, Nick is  _ not _ going to be the one to set that off.

"If he comes out and apologizes to you, will you let this go?" Kim asks.

John reels a little as he mulls over her proposal. Her hand is still half-propping him up; she can feel the heat of alcohol flush through his shirt, which is damp with sweat from a long walk. He must have been nursing that bottle a long time, if he's managed to get this hammered with so much exercise.

"Will he mean it?" John asks. It's a childish thing to suggest, but honestly, Nick is childish enough to warrant it.

"I'll make sure he does," she offers.

That seems to do it; John takes a half-step backward with an affirmative nod, lifts his empty bottle halfway to his mouth and then thinks better of it. "Fine," he sighs reluctantly. "Because of the baby."

" _ Thank _ you," Kim replies. She leaves him to his own devices as she returns inside, immediately going to the stairs and shouting, "Nick Rye, you come fix this right now!"

Unsurprisingly, the door creaks open after only a few humiliated seconds. Nick looks noticeably contrite as he edges out of the room, peering over the railing and towards the open door as though he's expecting a surprise assault. "What's that?" he asks, "Somethin', uhhhh... going on?"

"Nick," Kim scowls, watching her husband's expression change as he tries to come up with some excuse as to why he left her to handle a drunken John Seed by herself. "Apologize and get him off of our property."

Finally, he seems to realize nothing can get him out of it, and so he sighs and says, "Yes, ma'am." He passes her on the stairs like a kicked dog, which she ignores in favor of checking on Carmina. Even with all of the yelling from downstairs, she seems to be sleeping peacefully — maybe the night is still salvageable, even after John Seed's unnecessary interruption.

Barely a minute goes by before she hears shouting pick up from outside again. Kim has to let nature take its course with Carmina for right now — she has two grown manchildren to deal with — and so she leaves the nursery to rush downstairs.

Nick and John are full-on wrestling in the dirt when Kim comes out onto the porch, John's bottle shattered on the porch. Neither of them notices it when Kim reappears, too busy cursing each other and hurling increasingly personal insults that involve each other's families.

Kim, who has officially run out of patience, steps down off the porch and directs a few kicks at their scuffle, forcing them apart to avoid her. She tries extra hard not to knock any of their skulls, but she does cuff Nick's shoulder roughly with her boot to avoid clobbering John in the face.

"Jesus, Kim," Nick whines, "Why are you still wearin' your boots?"

"The two of you are acting like children," she snaps. "I'm going inside. If  _ you _ come back here like this again, I'm calling the sheriff," she tells John, jabbing a finger in his scandalized direction before aiming it more incriminating at her own husband, who at least has the sense to look ashamed. "Take him home, Nick. And don't be a jerk about it."

Nick looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't. He's a smart guy when he's not being a complete idiot. The proof is right there, when he looks up at her with those puppy dog eyes of his and says in an absolutely regretful voice, "Sorry, Kim."

"Just help him out," she sighs, already losing steam in the face of his well-crafted apology face. She never should have let on that he's too cute to be mad at when he does that, she really shouldn't have. It's made him impossible to work with. She hopes for his sake that he can make it work on John, too, because  _ he's _ the one who could make Nick's life difficult if he wanted.

She helps them both to their feet before she leaves them to it; they're either going to act like adults, or they're going to go back to throwing fists and personal attacks at one another, and Kim isn't about to get involved for a second time. If she has to, she'll call Earl in, but hopefully, they can sort this out with minimal police interference.

Carmina wakes up as the truck roars off down the drive, but after a restless few minutes of irritated crying, she seems to settle down for the long haul. Even when Nick returns some forty minutes later, she only squirms in her sleep before balling her little fist in her blanket. The real test comes when Kim quietly closes the nursery door on the way out — when Carmina doesn't immediately begin to wail, Kim takes it as the all-clear.

Nick meets her at the bottom of the stairs, head ducked contritely. "I should've told you what happened," he says, before Kim can speak, "He nearly ran me off the road and I..."

Kim puts a finger to his mouth. "Is everything okay now?" she asks.

"Well, yeah," he mumbles around her finger, "I pretended to be sorry and he pretended to accept it."

"Then we can argue about the details later." Kim drops her hand, shrugging helplessly as she offers Nick a smile. "Carmina's finally asleep, but I don't know for how long."

"Oh?" Nick asks, like he doesn't know why that's a big deal, until Kim raises an eyebrow and he repeats himself more confidently, " _ Oh _ ."

That's right,  _ oh _ . Kim grabs Nick's hand and pulls him tip-toeing up the stairs. There's going to be plenty of time later to worry about John Seed taking legal action against them, and to argue about Nick's increasingly unhealthy rivalry with the hotshot lawyer.  _ But _ , there areonly a few hours to spend together interruption free, and Kim is  _ not _ going to let John Seed get in the way of  _ that _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed. i want to write more about john in this universe b/c i got Plans for him but i'm also VERY LAZY so i at least wanted to get this much out for y'all. if you enjoyed and feel like it, please leave a comment!! also, go check out the other story in this series if you didn't, because jacob/eli is the true otp of this au and it always will be.
> 
> fun fact: this story was old enough that i had to change Carmina's name, because she originally didn't have a canon name!


End file.
